I Will Be Life

I have no idea what inspired this poem. I write many poems in an almost endless stream of words. This is one such poem – sprawling its way to somewhere on a January day in 2016.


I Will Be Life

I am a red tornado
Rearranging the way things are.
I am a flying blue cobra
Ripping through the sky.
I am a white cloud
Stretching my fingers across the plains of love.

I am a sphere
Moving through all of creation.
I am a fractal wave
Waking on the shores of consciousness.

I am silence
Spiralling through the gardens of life.
I am a torturous scream
Rising from the fires that burn in hell.
I am a divine melody
That fills the body of all beings.

I am a small brown falcon
That hovers beyond the chaos below.
I am a small brown ant
Walking across the landscapes of the soul.

I am a mournful song
Echoing across the valleys of despair.
I am a joyful song
Celebrating the wonder of existence.

I am seven sombre monks
Guarding the doorway to the self.
I am eleven wise children
Standing with hands and hearts wide open.

I am a solid oak table
Holding up the weight of our suffering.
I am a pilgrims candle
Burning so that all might see.

I am a deep red wine
Opening the heart and setting fire to the senses.
I am a thousand grains of pepper
Exploding forgotten memories.

I am a raging violin
Leaping out from the tallest mountain.
I am a crying cello
Singing my way through the morning.

I am an unfathomable deep ocean
Carrying the creatures of dreams and nightmares.
I am a glorious green meadow
Filling life with an endless display of discovery.

I am the turbulent winds
That shred the architectures of suffering.
I am the inextinguishable and inexhaustible sun.
Always radiating from the core of all beings.

I am a towering sequoia
A bridge between Earth and sky.
I am an ancient gum
Who has endured and savoured everything.
I am the ancient lichen
Remapping the contours of rock and soil.

I am the bee sting
That wakes you up from your stupor.
I am the shark in your dream pools
Devouring your attachments and aversions.

I am the fellowship
That transcends all boundaries.
I am the tongue
That licks all wounds.
I am the ghost of memory
Reinventing what was.

I will be life
I am eternal.
I was the shadow
I held the thorns.
I’ve forgotten how to be wild.
I remember the things that really matter.
I am flawed but still I am perfect.
I am


© R.J. Hudson 2016.


The Heartscape Of My Hands (The Mouth Of Our Hunger)

Hands have always fascinated me and in 2005 I wrote this poem as a way of exploring human suffering.


The Heartscape Of My Hands (The Mouth Of Our Hunger)

I cast my hands around empty streets,
Sending my fingers in search of men at prayer.

See the heartscape of my hands,
They tell you more than I can say.

In me death is bound by division,
Touching the mouth of our hunger.

Yet you know we will always change,
Though we will always seem the same.

Hands hammered onto nails :                                                                                                             Nails yielding from the martyrs song –
How he beholds the work of men.

Your blood flows into the sea of human kindness :
Mingled with the blood of hate –
Where side by side we thirst for the charms of his suffering.

Within us we see eyes raised above the self,
And from the human clock tick seasons which cannot be measured.

My eyes study their pupils my pupils study their eyes,
Each transfixed in the abyss of the other.


© R.J. Hudson 2005.


Lament of the Spiritual Dollar

In 2006 I was teaching spiritual development classes and working as a therapist. I saw so many losers and con men/women, that I felt inspired to pen this little song.


Lament of the Spiritual Dollar
(a tribute to the modern world of the spiritual guru in D Minor on a rusty old acoustic g’itar)

I came I saw I was awakened by the lure of the mighty spiritual dollar
I changed my name and I threw away the chance of fame
I became a Genpo and a Baba.
Now all around folks from outta town,
They gathered to hear me talk yeah –
They buy my books, they praise my name
They even sniff my grits yeah.
Yehaw …

I found a way to make my way through life.
While all around me I see people falling down,
Butchered by the gods of oppression.
They nearly had me too but I quickly flew –
To the feet of an empty vessel.
In my honest way I found a way –
To the feet of the holy dollar.
And the money tree sets me free.


I found a way to make it pay through the hearts of all them suckers.
They came crashing down,
To hear about the god that they carry around.
By the millions they came following my name –
For it ain’t no sin to help them see.
All of us have exactly what we need –
For it ain’t no sin to help them be.
But only for a fee.


Then one day I couldn’t make ‘em pay.
There was no one knockin’ at my door,
Someone else had wooed my people.
And I found myself feelin’ really grim –
So I listened real hard to the silence within.
The money tree was still there but I didn’t really care –
So I listened real hard to the laughter of children.
Only then did I know what money couldn’t grow.


So here I was
Lookin’ round
At the peddlers who were pushin’.
We had Indian Joe was makin’ a show bout being a plastic shaman.
We had Meister Malichi was teachin’ folks bout finding your way through ya DNA.
While Texas Tik Tak was harpin’ on bout the Hopi Gods and their prophecy.
But my favourite one was the great god Osiris the greatest god of the underworld,
Come back from the land of eternity through the body of a man called Bill.
So I sucked my way from the needle stack to the stack of hay
And I came to this one conclusion :
It was all empty air, made from threads bare and joined in a great confusion.
So I changed my name back to the one my mama adored,
I closed my door and thanked the good lord.
Now I found my way without money or fame
Now I talk to my neighbours and I talk to the birds
And I listen really hard for the silence between words.


© R.J. Hudson 2006.

The Adventures of Mr. Cheese Dick

Here’s a little song I wrote in 2006 after having had my share of encounters with Mr Cheese Dick’s !


The Adventures of Mr. Cheese Dick
(a psychadelic Neil Young electric guitar style song played in the key of A with an upbeat tempo)

You know Mr. Cheese Dick
Every body’s got a Mr. Cheese Dick
Some where close by

Mr. Cheese Dick cares only about himself
He’s a universe unto himself
You wanna see him fall down a black hole
But it never seems to happen
Nothing bad at all
Keep on walking Mr Cheese Dick
Walk on by

Mr Cheese Dick :
He’s the guy who pushes in at the supermarket and doesn’t say a word
He’s the guy who slams the door in your face and doesn’t even notice
He’s the guy who tail gates so close you can see the colour of his eyes
He’s the guy who won’t spend time with his kids but drinks his life away with his buddies

You’re an ugly man Mr. Cheese Dick
I suppose you have a name
Your someone’s father, someone’s brother, someone’s uncle or someone’s son
Maybe your even someone’s grandpa or someone’s friend
Worse still – your someone’s lover


Holy mother mother of humanity
Please soften the heart of Mr. Cheese Dick
He’s a real prick
Pushing and shoving his way through life
At the expense of everyone else

You made us all
And we try and love one another
But whenever I see Mr. Cheese Dick
People seem to suffer
What a pain in the arse



© R.J. Hudson 2006.

The Probability of God’s Inflexion

I have spent most of my life trying to understand the world without and the world within. Sometimes understanding is beyond me and in this poem I explore the one thing I think I really do understand.


The Probability of God’s Inflexion

The probability of god’s inflexion upon all life
Is as unknowable as fate itself.
The tides of life and death sway to their own strange rhythm.
Each creature it’s own vessel of meaning
Each creature it’s own light of being.

And in my alien mind :
I imagine that an ant watches the black stretch enigma of a human road
With the same respect and acceptance as it watches the stars –
The mystery of isness as daunting as the mystery of death.

And in my alien mind :
I watch a bloody clash of ants and wonder how they can dump their dead
As if the act of death has taken away all honour and dignity –
Leaving the dead as meaningless as the mystery of empire.

But one creature among billions
Is nothing in the great sea of life.
Yet I – a simple human being think meaning is mine alone,
This folly of belonging to a species in which I cannot even understand my self.

Of all that is
I understand nothing.
Of all that really matters
I can find only love.
And in that love I find a god that is –
Is only is.
In one hand a thing that reaches out
In the other a thing that turns away
But in all things love.


© R.J. Hudson 2007.

The Wonder of Each Moment

I spent a large part of my life suffering and then later worked with many other people who suffered. When I realised the preciousness of each moment, everything changed and my experience of life shifted. A life threatening illness woke me to the splendour of each moment and helped me to see how to honour my body as a teacher and a voice for the soul. I wrote this poem as a reminder of the moment and how the moment finds its way into the experiences of the body.


The Wonder of Each Moment

The body moans and groans,
With small agonies
Long since sent away,
To some forgotten landscape within.

As space moves across space,
Gradients change
And space shrinks and expands
opens and closes
consumes and expels.

The mind conceives time,
In a place of space,
Where perception sees what it wants to see.
The body growing older
And the mind following in submission.

Age created from moments only half lived.
Moments when the life force was only partly expressed.
Vitality pushing outwards through the body into space.
But there in the experience of being in the body,
Experience is hammered into what should and should not be.
The full expression of life killed in the moment.

But the body never lies
it never lies
it cannot lie.
Instead it takes every thing
That enters its being and finds a place for it
And anchors it with memory.

Memories gather in the body –
Some reflections of pure moments that were lived fully,
Others reflections of jaded moments that erased in their prime.
Those that were fully lived
fully create harmony.
Those that were erased
disturb the flow.

And in the midst of life,
The river keeps flowing.
The Tao within and the Tao without,
At one with all that is light and all that is dark.
Where life is lived fully
it unfolds naturally with ease.
Where life is erased
it unfolds in knots and disease.
The perpetual unfolding of life,
finds it’s own rhythm in the flow.
Sometimes moving gently.
Sometimes moving chaotically.
Sometimes shifting from one to the other –
But always moving in response to the moment.

Moments lived fully,
Give full expression to the soul.
Moments erased,
Extinguish the souls’ perfection.

The three great poisons in this human life,
Bring nothing but darkness to the soul.
But in knowing them,
We find our own antidotes
And the soul shines forth in radiant perfection.

There is only one secret to living a great life –
To live fully and feel everything
That arises in the moment.
Not to turn away,
To avoid, suppress or deny
But to embrace,
To feel in the heart, the mind and the body,
What is.

A breath has many moments
But each moment exists outside the breath.
Breathe and live,
Be and exist,
Feeling the wonder of each moment.


© R.J. Hudson 2015.

The Last Light of the Day

Almost every day I walk 2-6 km. A few years ago I lived in a mountain range called Gariwerd, where every evening I would go for my walk and watch the sun go down. Living in the mountains we experienced at least 2 hours less daylight than people who lived outside of the range. I ended up missing the sun’s presence in my life and took every opportunity I could to bath in the last light of the day. I wrote this poem as a way of remembering what it felt like looking up at the mountains as the light dissapeared and darkness descended.

The Last Light of the Day

The last light of the day,
Climbs over the mountain.
A gentle crescent of light,
Saying farewell to the rocks and the trees.

Up there,
Far, far away –
The light looks so otherworldly,
Like light from another sun.

As it rises,
Each rock and tree
Catches on fire
And it’s essence burns brightly.

I can see God in that light.
God burning brightly,
From it’s own inextinguishable being –
And I am stunned into wonder.

My heart settles into a place beyond words.
A place where light creates space,
A space where light awakens the mind –
To the light within.

© R.J. Hudson 2015.